


No More. No Less. Just This.

by coldpizzadestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Artist Castiel, High School, Highschool AU, M/M, Slow Burn, Teenage Castiel, teenage dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-05-31 08:42:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6463444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldpizzadestiel/pseuds/coldpizzadestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel have been best friends for years. But junior year has left them both thinking about wanting more. Along with these thoughts comes the intense fear that in the pursuit of something more, they'll end up with much less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**2006**

 

Mary got up from her place on the couch to get a better look across the street. She got to the window and put Dean on her hip, even though he was getting too big.

 

“John!” she yelled upstairs, “a family’s finally moving into the old Milton house.”

 

“I wanna go see it Mommy!”

 

“We’ll go over and greet our new neighbors in a few minutes okay? Let me go get Sammy.”

 

Eventually, all four of the Winchesters were crowded around the window, watching the new mystery family move in.

 

“They have a lot of kids. What is that, like 5?” John said.

 

“Make that 6. Look Dean! There’s another little boy!”

 

“I can’t see!”

 

Sam was in John’s arms, babbling toddler nonsense.

 

“Let’s go over Mary. Offer a hand.”

 

“You go. I’ll stay here with Sam. The last thing they need is a toddler getting in the way.”

 

“C’mon Dean.”

 

John took his son by the hand and crossed the street. One of the boys noticed them, and waved them over.

 

“Hi. I’m Gabriel!” Gabriel couldn’t be more than 15, but he exuded the confidence and self-assuredness most people only got in their 40’s.

 

“Nice to meet you. I’m John Winchester.” He extended his hand out.  


“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Winchester.” Gabriel gave a firm shake and called over his father.

 

John spoke with Gabriel’s father for 15 minutes, Dean tugging at his hand the whole time. John learned that this was the Novak family, and the man he was talking to was Charles Novak, but everyone called him Chuck.

 

Chuck pointed to every single person in the chaos of moving in, giving their name as he went.

 

“That’s my wife, Naomi. The one in the green’s Michael, he’s 16. That’s Samandriel, but we call him Alfie. He’s 15. I don’t even know how he got that nickname. The oldest one there is Balthazar. He’s off to college in the fall. We won’t be seeing much of him. You met Gabriel. He’s 13. The redhead is my daughter, Anna. She’s 9. Oh, and, I swear he’s around here somewhere…”

 

A little pair of arms hugged Chuck’s legs.

 

“There he is! Come here.” A little boy stepped out sheepishly from behind Chuck.

 

“This is the runt of the family, Castiel. He’s 7.”

 

The two boys stood in front of each other, making furious eye contact, surveying each other.

 

“Do you like cars?” Dean piped up.

 

Castiel nodded his head yes, and immediately Dean grabbed his hand and ran to the truck.

 

Dean stayed at the Novaks until the sun went down. Finally, at about 7, Mary went over to bring Dean back home.

 

“Hi! I’m Mary Winchester, from across the street. I believe my son hijacked your first day in your house.”

 

“Mary! Hi. Chuck was telling me about you. I’m Naomi. Dean’s been playing with Castiel all day. You can come in if you’d like.”

 

“Oh no, I’m sure you have enough on your hands.”

 

“Well alright. I’ll go grab Dean.”

 

Moments later, Dean and Castiel came up to the door, hands held.

 

“And tomorrow, I’ll show you my dad’s car. It’s so cool, Cas! Mommy, can I stay for 5 more minutes? Please?”

 

“No sweetie, it’s late. Say goodbye to your new friend.”

 

Castiel hesitantly let go of Dean’s hand, “Bye Dean.”

 

“Bye Cas.”

 

The little boys hugged each other, until Mary had to practically pry Dean away.

 

\---

 

**2012**

 

“Tomorrow’s the first day of eighth grade. How do you boys feel?”

 

“I feel great, Mr. Winchester. I’m excited to be in my last year of middle school.”

 

“Castiel, I’ve known you since you were 7 years old. I think it’s about time you started calling me John.”

 

“No sir, I think that would be disrespectful.”

 

“Alright then. So why are you so excited to be done with middle school?”

 

“Probably because Cas is lonely as hell.” Dean said as he shoved more pie onto his plate.

 

“I’m actually not. Dean just resents the fact that instead of joining the football team with him I joined the Art Initiative.”

 

“Art Initiative my ass.”

 

“Language Dean. Your brother is in the room”

 

“Relax, Mom, he’s 9. Your so called initiative is just an excuse for you people to spend all your time in that damn studio on the third floor. And I doubt you even talk to each other.”

 

“We prefer to work in silence. That’s besides the point. The reason I’m excited to be done with middle school is because next year I can apply to the high school initiative.”

 

“You have to apply? Did you have to apply to the middle school one?” Mary asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Did you have to turn in a piece or something?”

 

“Well, I didn’t have to but, um, generally speaking, yes that-”

 

Dean looked up from eating pie, sensing Castiel’s awkwardness. “He got invited. Every one of those art nerds had to work there asses off to make something pretty and Cas didn’t have to lift one finger.”

 

“That’s great Cas! You should’ve told us earlier.”

 

“Sorry. It felt strange to just bring up my achievements.”

 

John softly laughed to himself as he went back to doing a crossword. “Alright, Cas. You boys go to bed now. You have school tomorrow.”

 

Every since the 2nd grade, Dean and Castiel had the tradition of sleeping over at Dean’s house the night before the first day. Mary would make them an apple pie and the whole family would eat around the table and talk about what happened in the last year and what they hope will happen in the next. Once Dean got tired of hanging out with his parents (which didn’t take him long), he would grab Castiel’s arm and they would yell goodnight as they ran up the stairs.

 

Then they’d sit on Dean’s floor and have their own, more personal conversation about the new school year. It was the kind of conversation you could only have with a best friend. Their words would run from football team tryouts, to the shape of the moon, to video games, and beyond. They would talk until there eyes just wouldn’t stay open. Then Dean would crawl into bed first, sliding all the way to the wall. Castiel would turn off the lights from the light switch beside the door and run to the bed, sliding in besides Dean. But this night seemed different. They sat on the ground and talked, but when Dean slid into bed, he felt weird about making room for Cas. Like maybe he shouldn’t. Dean looked up pleadingly at Cas, who was standing by the door with his finger on the switch. As always, Cas just _understood_.

 

“I’ll get the sleeping bag from the closet in the hall.”

  
“Yeah, good call.”


	2. Well Someone Has A Crush

\---

**2015**

 

“Hey Cas. Let’s go.”

 

“Give me a minute.”

 

“You said that a minute ago.”

 

“I have to finish this piece Dean. It’ll go faster if you stop bothering me.”

 

“Can’t you finish it tomorrow? Or at home?”

 

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, Dean. And I have to finish it here, in the studio. Because I need access to Rowena’s paints.”  


“Still weird that you call the art teacher Rowena. Can’t you just use the paints you have at home?”

 

“Those paints are awful. They clump and dry too fast and-”

 

“Alright, got it, you have to finish it here. I’ll wait for you then.” Dean sat down next to Castiel with an exaggerated sigh.

 

“You can go without me you know. You seem to forget that I can drive myself.”

 

“Well I’ll be damned if my best friend is seen driving around in a Toyota Prius. And I like driving you around. We always have the best times in the Impala. Remember when we took her out for the first time?”

 

Castiel blushed. That was the night when he came out to Dean.

“Yes, I remember. I was so scared.”

 

“I still can’t believe you thought I would just stop being your friend because you like guys.”

 

“Yes, but I’m sure your father wouldn’t be as accepting. I don’t think anyone would be as accepting.”

 

“Yes he would. Yeah he says some shit, but he loves you like a third son. And I don’t understand why you haven’t come out to anyone else. No one is going to disown you.”

 

Castiel sighed. He hadn’t come out yet because he knew how it would look. A jock spending all his time with a gay guy. People would talk. Castiel wouldn’t mind the rumors. But Dean, very straight Dean, would feel threatened. And maybe, just maybe, he would end their friendship because Dean would rather die than be thought of as anything but straight.

 

“Anyway, are you almost done?”

 

“One last detail.”

 

Dean watched as Cas moved the paintbrush. It was like the brush was an extension of his arm, like he knew exactly what would happen with every stroke. His arms were strong and steady, and his rough hands were covered in red paint. His blue eyes moved across the canvas, precisely measuring where things had to be added or improved. Dean loved watching Castiel paint. When Castiel painted, you could see the person Dean was so proud to call his best friend. Everyone thought their friendship was strange. A confident jock that had hooked up with every single girl in the school best friends with a quiet artist that spoke like a seasoned english teacher. But when Castiel was working on a piece, every one saw who Dean saw. A beautiful person who could never do anything but love every one around him with all his heart. People saw past the awkward talking and the oversized bulky trenchcoat. They saw Castiel for who he was, and Dean loved to see people’s faces when Castiel started putting paint to canvas.

 

“Done.” Castiel turned the canvas to face Dean.

 

“Wow.” On the canvas was a dark image of a little girl with a knowing, malicious glare. She had blue eyes, but they were empty. Cas had given her long, blonde hair and pale skin. There were burning flames all around her, and Castiel had managed to make it look like they were casting an eerie glow on the girl.

 

“Dude, I don’t know where the fuck you get your ideas from, but this is so cool. What are you calling it?”

 

“Lilith. That’s the girl’s name. It’s like sweet and innocent Lilly, turned evil. That’s what I was going for with the little girl surrounded by fire.”

 

“Yeah, it totally makes sense. Is this piece for that art competition?”

 

“Yes. I’m nervous to submit it.”

 

“You’re always nervous to submit your pieces. It’ll be great.”

 

…

 

“Cas! Where are you going? I thought we were going to Charlie’s place.”

 

“I don’t want to. I think I’ll just go home.”

 

“Wow, clearly something’s up. You've been rude to everyone, which was fine until you started shutting me out too."

 

"I'm stressed, Dean."

 

"Dude, we're about to go on spring break. What could possibly be stressing you out right now?"

 

Castiel leaned against the lockers.

 

"You know the art competition I've been doing for the past few months?"

 

"Yeah. You wouldn't shut up about it.”

 

“My Lilith piece got me into the final round.”

 

“Cas! That’s great!” Dean hugged Castiel for a minute before awkwardly letting go when he noticed people staring. He turned back to Cas, taking a step away.

 

“Then why are you stressed?”

 

"Yes, it’s great news. And today I found out what we have to do for the last round. But I have no idea what to paint, Dean. This never happens to me. I always know what to paint."

 

"What do they want you to do?"

 

Castiel read from his phone. "All finalists are expected to submit a piece of any medium encompassing the sensation of love."

 

"Shit, that's a pretty hard thing to do."

 

"Yes, I know."

 

"Well, what do you love?"

 

"Dean, this is a national art competition. I don't think drawing a picture of my mommy is going to cut it."

 

"Don't get all snappy with me just because you're stressed. And stick with me. We're just brainstorming. What do you love?"

 

"Art, painting-"

 

"Good! Give me specifics. What parts of the painting process make you love it so much."

 

"Finishing a beautiful piece of art that I'm proud of after long hours in the studio. People's smiles when they understand a piece. Being the first person in Rowena's studio in the mornings and the last one out at night. The smell of canvas. The smears of paint all over the palette, how they practically form their own art piece."

 

"Now there's something. I have an idea. What if you painted a picture of someone you love on a palette. And make it all smeary and cool."

 

"I'm quite sure those aren't the technical terms."

 

"Shut up. Do you like the idea?"

 

"Yes. It’s good. But I have no idea who I would paint."

 

"Chuck?"

 

"No. His features are far too sharp for this."

 

"Okay, Naomi?"

 

"God no. I'm not quite sure I love that woman."

 

"Damn it, Cas. Do you want to paint anyone in your family?"

 

"Not particularly."

 

"Okay. So who else do you love? Besides the apparently unpaintable Novaks?"

 

"Sam, Mary…” Castiel paused, “You."

 

"Me? Didn't know that." Dean shifted uncomfortably.

 

"We've been friends for more than 10 years. I think that's love."

 

"Yeah but do you have to say it like we're getting married?"

 

"There is such thing as platonic love, Dean."

 

Castiel's blue eyes were locked on Dean, studying the lines of his face.

 

"Would you stop looking at me like that?"

 

"Calm down. I'm just figuring out how I'm going to paint you. It's going to be difficult to find the right shade of paint for your freckles, but otherwise I should be fine."

 

"So you're painting...me?"

 

"Yes. I believe I just said that."

 

"Do I have to, like, model for you?"

 

"No. But it would help to have you in the room."

 

"Well when can we start?"

 

"I figure the next time you're in the studio watching me paint.”

 

Dean started running his fingers through his hair self consciously. "I do not watch you paint.”

 

"Just because I'm painting doesn't mean I lose all peripheral vision, Dean.”

 

"I do not watch you paint."

 

“Your big green eyes speak differently.”

 

Dean’s breaths became shallow and uneven, and he didn’t know why. He felt a bit like someone had found out his secret. Even though no one had. And he had nothing to hide. Obviously. “I could cancel on Charlie and we can go up to the studio today."

 

“Yes. It’s probably best I get a head start. Let’s go up."

 

Dean and Castiel spent the afternoon and into the early hours of the night in the art studio. Castiel didn’t even touch the paints. He sketched out Dean’s features, studying him with ferocity.

 

…

 

That was their routine for the rest of that week. Castiel wanted to work on the piece over spring break, and he took supplies from the art studio on Friday. Dean insisted on driving Castiel home, just like he did everyday.

 

“Do you want to work on this tomorrow?”

 

“Tomorrow’s saturday, Dean.”

 

“Yeah, I know. But do you want to work on it?”

 

“Well, yes. But I didn’t think you would.”

 

“I wouldn’t call my role work. I just sit there and look pretty.”

 

“That’s certainly not difficult for you.” Castiel looked at Dean hesitantly. It was meant to be a joke, but had instead caused a dramatic energy shift in the Impala.

 

“Well someone has a crush.” Dean’s comment was supposed to calm Cas down. After 10 years, Dean knew when Castiel regretted saying something. So Dean tried to let him know that the joke had processed, that this was just like all the other mindless banter they exchanged. But Dean said it before he could sort out the right tone, and the comment came out of his mouth like it had formed in his mind: hostile and defensive. His attempt to readjust the atmosphere did nothing but thicken the air. They drove in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes.

 

“Shit, sorry Cas. I know you were just joking. And I was just trying to joke too. But it came out all...wrong”

 

“You said it like you heard it in your head.”

 

“No, I-”

 

“You spoke too fast. You sounded defensive.”

 

“Stop acting like you know fucking everything about me! Shit. Look, I’m sorry for getting snappy. Can we just forget it?”

 

“No, we can’t. You didn’t just get snappy. You talked to me like you do to the girls you turn down at school. You thought I was hitting on you. Or at least something in that head of yours did.”

 

“And what if I did? You’re gay Cas. For all I know you could have some huge faggy crush on me.”

 

“Stop the car.”

 

“What?”

 

“Stop the car. I’m walking home.”

 

“Don’t be stupid. We’re almost there.”

 

“Are you sure you’ll survive one more second with the guy who has a huge faggy crush on you? Stop the fucking car, Dean.” Castiel swore. Alarms went off in Dean’s head. Castiel never cursed. He only ever did when he was completely pissed.

 

“Why the fuck did I say that? Oh God, I’m so sorry Cas.” Castiel didn’t say anything. He just sat there with his hand poised on the door handle, his jaw clenched and his eyes set in a ferocious stare at the road.

 

“Right, you want to get out. Ok.” Dean pulled over. Cas slammed the door and stood on the side of the road until Dean pulled away. Spring break was off to a great start.

 

…

 

“This is like the 7th time I’ve called, man. Please call me back.”

 

Dean turned off his phone and threw it onto the bed. He had given Castiel all of Saturday to calm down and then started calling on Sunday. It was Monday and Castiel still hadn’t called back. Dean was trying to give Castiel space, but he was losing his patience. Sam poked his head in the door.

 

“Hey Dean.”

 

“Sammy get out or so help me God.”

 

“Geez, what’s up with you?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Are you in a fight with Cas?”

 

“No.”

 

“He hasn’t been around the past few days. And he’s always around. Not to mention you’re acting the way you are-”

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

“You’re being pissy, Dean. You’re not fighting with me or Mom. And for once you’re not fighting with Dad. So who does that leave? Cas.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“So I got it right? Knew it.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“So how long has it been since you talked to him?”

 

“Two days.”

 

“Wow, that’s almost as bad as ‘The Big Seventh Grade Blowout’”

 

“We fought over a pair of shoes.”

 

“Yeah, but you didn’t talk for a week. Which was monumental for you two.”

 

“Yeah well this time it isn’t just over a pair of shoes.”

 

“That sounded serious. Is it serious?”

 

“I’m not saying shit to you. But, yeah, he’s pretty pissed. And he won’t call me back.”

 

“Dean, you’re acting like he lives on the other side of the world. Just go and knock on his door.”

 

“I’ve been trying to give him space.”

 

“You’ve given him two days. That’s enough time for space. Go over there.”

 

“Like now?”

 

“What, do you have an appointment? Yes now.”

 

“Bitch.”

 

“Jerk.”

 

Dean shoved on his boots and ran out the door across the street. Before he could even have a second to think he was outside the Novak house. Normally he would let himself in the back but this was not “normally.” He knocked on the door. Chuck answered.

 

“Hi Dean.”

 

“Hey Chuck, is, uh, is Cas around?”

 

“When was the last time we did this little routine. Must’ve been something like 7 years ago. Normally I’m the one asking you where my son is.”

 

“Yeah, been awhile since I didn’t know where Castiel was.” Dean closed his eyes as he felt himself blush. “So, where is he?”

 

“In his room.” Chuck stepped away from the door so Dean could pass. “Go ahead.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Dean went to Castiel’s room, surprised to find the door open. Dean walked in, standing idly at the door. Castiel was at his desk, his face turned away from Dean.

 

“What are you working on?”

 

“English essay.”

 

“That’s only due in 2 weeks.”

 

“Well I didn’t have much else to do.”

 

“I’m so sorry Cas.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Then can you forgive me? Please? I’ve been bored as hell these last 2 days.”

 

“Well I don’t know what you want me to say, Dean.” Castiel turned around. “You’re the only person I’m out to and you’re already accusing me of having a crush on you. You sounded, like you were scared of me or something. Do you really see me that way? Like some predatory gay who’ll try to kiss you in your sleep?”

 

“No, of course not. I see you as my best friend. And without you around life gets pretty shit.”

 

“You said I had a faggy crush on you.”

 

“I’m such a goddamn idiot.”

 

“Yeah, you are.”

 

“It’ll never happen again. I got defensive for no reason and I’m so sorry.”

 

“It really was for no reason. Even if you were gay, I wouldn’t be interested.” Dean felt a little hurt until he saw Cas’ face break into a grin.

 

“Fuck you. You’d definitely fall in love with me.”

 

“You would certainly fall in love with me first.”

 

“You wish. Hey, I really am sorry.”

 

“It’s alright. Life without Dean Winchester is not something I would like to go through.” And that was that. They put everything behind them and moved forward. That was what they always did. Move past it, even when one of them still felt a little hurt or there were still little unresolved feelings or thoughts in the backs of their heads. They each trusted that over time, their friendship would get rid of any of that. But feelings can linger. And there’s little to do about that besides acknowledging them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 2! I hope you're as excited as I am. Thank you so much for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting. Means the world.


	3. It’s More What You Need To Get Rid Of

…

 

Castiel and Dean spent spring break like they had ever since they were seven years old: together. They drove around in the Impala, Castiel worked on his piece, and Sammy tagged along whenever he wasn’t studying. The break continued with this relaxed mood until the Saturday before they had to go back to school.

 

The events of that Saturday were far from relaxed.

 

**Saturday**

 

Castiel had spent the night at Dean’s house and they had stayed up all night watching Dr. Sexy MD. Dean had finally managed to get Castiel hooked. In the morning, they went to Castiel’s house to eat breakfast and continue their binge.

 

“Where the hell is everybody?”

 

“Anna’s at dance. And I don’t really bother with keeping track of my parents anymore, to be frank.”

 

“So dysfunctional.”

 

“Not dysfunctional, Dean, realistic.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“No, I’m serious. Everyone else is gone, living their own life far away from Lawrence. Anna and I are the only ones left, and Anna’s leaving at the beginning of the summer. I’m almost done too, so we’re all a bit over the whole united family spirit.”

 

“How can you say that, Cas? Family… Family is everything.”

 

“Not true. I have you, and Sam, and we’re not family.”

 

“Except we are. Bobby always says,” Dean put on a slurred South Dakota accent, “Family don’t end in blood, boy.”

 

Castiel cracked a smile.

 

“There it is. See? Family can even make you smile once in awhile.”

 

Castiel looked down and rubbed the back of his neck, “Okay, fine. What do you want to do?”

 

“Didn’t we come over here to watch Dr. Sexy?”

 

“Well, yes, but-”

 

“You want to work on the piece.”

 

“Yes. I’m sorry I know we’ve already worked on it so much but I had a great idea and I just need to get it down.”

 

“No, no, it’s okay. Let’s do it. I don’t mind working on it.”

 

“Good. Let’s eat breakfast first.”

 

“I’m gonna have a peanut butter and jelly. You want one?”

 

“No, it tastes like molecules.”

 

“You’re so fucking weird.”

 

“Yes, I’m aware.”

 

They ate breakfast in the living room, watching old cartoon reruns and talking about school. Afterwards, they made their way upstairs. A word should be put in here about Castiel’s room. It was not the typical teenage boy room. The walls were covered in art. Not Castiel’s own, but pieces by his great inspirations. They ranged from Van Gogh to Banksy. The ceiling was covered in mini collages of poems, passages, pictures, and drawings that Castiel had collected over the years. The floor in Castiel’s room was different from the rest of the house. He had ripped up the ugly beige carpet all on his own on the night of his 14th birthday, exposing the wooden flooring beneath it. The floor was aged and unfinished, but felt oddly good on the bottoms of bare feet. Castiel’s twin sized bed sat in the corner of the room, constantly covered in smears of paint. Castiel always painted in bed. He claimed it helped him fall asleep, Naomi claimed it just caused mess. Finally, Castiel’s simple white Ikea desk sat opposite the door, covered in clippings, paints, pens, papers, canvases, and the beginnings of homework assignments. So yes, the room certainly belonged to an artist.

 

And it happened to be Dean’s paradise. Whenever Dean walked into Castiel’s cave of inspiration, he swore his breath hitched and he had to pause to take everything in before walking in any further. And even today, on what must’ve been the millionth time Dean found himself in this same room, he was hit with that same overwhelming sense of wonder.

 

Cas sat on his bed, already opening the painting stand where the pallette piece was firmly latched on.

 

“Where do you want me to sit?”

 

“I think today I want you by the window, the more light the better.” Dean grabbed the chair and rolled it to the window.

 

“Does here work?”

 

“Yes.” Castiel got to painting.

 

“So what’s this brilliant idea you just had to get down?”

 

“I think I’ll paint a little ways below your neck.”

 

“Seriously? That’s what you stopped Dr. Sexy MD for? An adjustment?”

 

“Yes, I’m sorry. But now I have to change your head size and some of your features and the shadow and I wanted to get started as soon as possible.”

 

“Well, fine. I’m here so you may as well.”

 

The room was comfortably silent for the next half hour. Castiel was working furiously on the painting and Dean was sitting by the window, watching his best friend work. But when Dean saw Castiel’s confident painting face fall into a frustrated frown, he knew Cas had another “adjustment” to make.

 

“What’s wrong now?”

 

Castiel looked up from the piece. His concentration breaking for the first time in 30 minutes.

 

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

 

“Bullshit. Did I fuck up the modeling or something?”

 

“No, no, you were fine. It’s just, I don’t know, I feel like something is missing.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Or maybe, something is extra? Yes that’s it, something is too much. There’s a detail in this painting that I could do without.”

 

“And what detail is that?”

 

“I don’t know yet, give me a moment.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Dean sat uncomfortably for a few minutes while Castiel frowned at the piece.

 

“Got it.”

 

“Okay, what do you need to get rid of?”

 

“It’s more what you need to get rid of. Take your shirt off.”

 

“What?”

 

“Take your shirt off.” Castiel’s voice was unwavering, completely nonchalant. And of course he wasn’t freaking out this. There wasn’t anything to freak out about. Dean and Cas had taken baths together as little kids, and had certainly seen each other shirtless thousands of times. But just sitting there without a shirt on, allowing Castiel to just look at him, felt oddly intimate. And Dean felt embarrassed.

 

“Um, I don’t know why man, but I feel weird about that.”

 

“Dean, I’m not going to paint you nude, I just don’t like the way the shirt looks in the piece. It looks juvenile.”

 

Dean was starting to feel juvenile too. But it still felt strange. He knew he had a good body, he was in the middle of a rigorous season with a lot of training. And he was pretty sure that he had been eating lean lately. But why was he worrying about this in the first place? This was Cas. Best friend Cas. Cas who doesn’t give a shit about your abs. Dean put away his insecurities and chalked all of these new, odd feelings of embarrassment around Cas to the lack of sex in his life at the moment.

 

“Okay, sorry. I felt awkward for a minute. I need to fuck someone soon, or else I might lose it.”

 

“I don’t quite know how the two are related, but alright.”

 

Dean stripped off his flannel first, then his grey t-shirt. Castiel was mixing paints on his palette, focused deeply. Until he looked up. Dean was looking out the window, his arms carefully crossed to guard his chest. Castiel’s breath caught in his throat. His blue eyes carefully examining each slope, angle, and curve of Dean’s body. Dean was gorgeous. How had Castiel never notice this? In all his years of being sexually frustrated and finding appeal in literally anything male with a heartbeat, how had he never seen how magnificent his own best friend was?

 

“Dude, the last person who looked at me like that, I got laid.”

 

Castiel’s eyes snapped up to Dean’s face.

 

“I was just observing you for the piece. Don’t get arrogant.” Castiel knew that was the initial reason he had even looked at Dean’s body, but somewhere along the way, he had gotten distracted.

 

“Right, so you wanna do your little magic art thing so I can put some clothes back on? It’s fucking freezing in here.”

 

“Yes, of course.” And they finished the morning painting and exchanging lazy conversation, but each of them having their own internal monologue in an effort to figure themselves out.

 

By the end of the day, they were both on the Winchester couch, watching Dr. Sexy with Sam. Dean was sitting on the far end of the couch, Castiel was sitting in the middle, and Sam on the other side. Everything was fine for at least an hour. In fact, everything was fine until Dean started thinking. He had watched every episode of Dr. Sexy, and the reruns got boring after a while. So Dean’s mind wandered. It wandered all the way to this morning, when Castiel was painting him.

 

_What happened to me this morning? Why was I so…embarrassed? But then I saw Cas’s eyes. He was literally looking me up and down. But he was just painting. We just had a fight about this. Castiel isn’t into me. Duh. Of course. And I’m not into him. Oh my god. Why did I even go there? I’m straight. Into girls. That’s all it is. This weirdness. It’s just my teenage brain going insane from lack of sex. But seriously, brain? Castiel? No, never. I would never. What am I even thinking about right now? You know who’s hot? Lisa. Amara. Even Castiel's sister, Anna. Lisa would never go for me after I broke her heart. And Amara, damn, she’s just scary. Anna. She’s it. She’ll make all this weirdness go away._

 

Dean’s thoughts were racing a mile a minute and he was already planning how to ask out Anna on Monday. Sam was asleep, but Castiel was still very much awake. His eyes were focused on the television. The room was quiet with the exception of Sam’s even breathing. Then Dean felt it. Castiel’s hand. Sitting in the space where their legs touched. Cas was just moving his hand around on his own thigh, but to Dean it felt as though he was slowly moving his hand up and down Dean’s leg. Dean looked down at Castiel’s hand and his breath stopped. Castiel hadn’t even noticed what he was doing. He was still focused on the Dr. Sexy episode. This wasn’t something Dean could just write off as “oh whatever we’ve done that before.” It was new uncharted territory to have Cas’s hands moving the way they were on his legs, albeit unintentionally. But Dean didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move. Because the feeling of having Castiel’s hand running up and down the side of his leg felt _good._ Dean didn’t want it to stop. And that horrified him. But he just sat there, completely frozen, battling himself to say something or just move away. But then Castiel ended it for him, drawing his hand away to pick up the popcorn off the table.

 

Dean did nothing but stare at the TV without really taking anything in. His breathing was heavy and uneven, and he could feel anxiety bubbling up in his throat.

 

“Why are you breathing so hard?”

 

“I don’t know. I feel anxious all of a sudden.” It certainly wasn’t all of a sudden, but Dean wasn’t about to tell Castiel his accidental touch made Dean’s whole body go into shock.

 

“Go drink some water. It’s late too, you should go to bed.”

 

“No, I’m fine, I don’t want you to leave.” Dean willed himself to calm down. He felt his heart slow down and his breath even out. “See? I’m good.”

 

“Okay, do you want to watch something else?”

 

“Yes. Let’s watch Princess Bride.”

 

“Again?”

 

“Princess Bride never gets old.” Dean leaned back into the sofa, grateful for the extra inch of space Castiel had created between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 3 was so fun to write. I hope its just as fun to read. Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. Hope you enjoyed.


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